On My Way
by Kaede-tama
Summary: Matthew speaks and Alfred hears: "I'm dying." Oneshot, USCan.


**A/N:** I just had the urge to right this... That and I'm visiting my cousins in Vermont, therefore I'm going to be gone for the whole week. Oh, and I don't have the next chapter of Love Letter done. I will definitely try to finish and post it by tomorrow, but no promises... *facepalm*

This is unedited and unbeta'd, so any and all mistakes are my fault.

Enjoy, nonetheless.

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><p><strong>On My Way<strong>

**. . .**

Matthew speaks and Alfred hears. Yet he doesn't really, because the words are a little slurred and muffled and he doesn't know whether to break down crying or start hitting the nearest wall.

Matthew speaks and he hears. His lips are moving, those pretty Indigo eyes pleading silently to listen to his explanation. Alfred closes his eyes briefly and-_inhale._

_Exhale._

He doesn't want to be here right now, being told those forsaken words. So he lets the creeping darkness take over him, cloud his vision, twist around his body until he feels as if he is suffocating. The claustrophobia is threatening to overwhelm him and he feels dizzy, yet he still hears those words. Matthew speaks and Alfred hears: _"I'm dying."_

Eyes closed, head bowed, fists clenched with the feeling of sentience crawling up his throat, he allows himself to go back five years earlier, when things had been much simpler, when grief wasn't just around the corner where that little convenience store sat. He sees with a breathtaking clarity their first meeting, and after that, he takes himself to another trip down Memory Lane and relives their first date

_("Really? You...want to go on a date with me?")_

and after that, immerses in the small pieces of the past that he treasures the most:

The stars were out and the two laid on the meadow sharing a blanket, and Alfred felt the wisps of his silky hair touching his arm just barely as Matthew sought more warmth. The night sky reminded Alfred of a song about wishing on a star. But when Indigo eyes fluttered up to meet his gaze shyly, adoringly, Alfred smiled because he knew that he had all he could wish for right there.

Matthew spoke and Alfred heard: "Please love me."

He replied easily, "I love you."

Their hands intertwined. Underneath the blanket and hidden to the world, the silent promise was made and Alfred knew that while they weren't experienced

_("High school romances never last, Alfred...")_

he didn't really give a care. He had love to give, so he loved and loved and loved. Matthew accepted him with open arms, and when he sank into his embrace, he felt that his soul was being pulled from the dark.

Tenth grade passed and a flurry of the autumn leaves marked the beginning of their eleventh year. Alfred stood, a little hunched, spying the other students walking around him-most of which were couples, he noted carelessly- until his eyes met Indigo ones and he found himself smiling so hard that it felt like his face was going to split in two.

Matthew took a step forward and Alfred ran. Hands were intertwined again in a desperation to clutch onto something before the tide swept and overwhelmed them.

Matthew gave himself to Alfred that night, in his room, sheets askew, limbs tangled, and hushed whispers of, _"I love you."_

Alfred held his face delicately afterwards, looked him in the eyes, and said, "I will never leave you."

And Matthew smiled, fingers running gently through his lover's hair. He murmured, "Thank you."

Alfred felt safe for the first time in a long while, and he had this angel in his arms to thank.

But he can't stay in the past forever, as much as he wants to, and he's pulled back to the present by arms wrapping around his shoulders and something wet on his sleeve. That's when he realizes that Matthew is crying

_("It's leukemia.")_

and oh, God, he's crying too and he doesn't know what to do, what to say. He wants so much to be the hero he calls himself, wants to save Matthew, but he knows, deep down, that he can't, he can't, he _can't_.

So he loves him while he can, because he knows that that is all he can do. And when the time comes, there in the hospital room, when the green line is running flat, when there's only silence save for a steady beat, when _Matthew's not awake anymore_, Alfred cries.

He laces their hands together, though while one pulses with life, the other is devoid of it. The whiteness of the room is blinding and he closes his eyes, trying to ignore the fact that Matthew's not there anymore.

Alfred feels himself let go; the string that was Matthew that kept him connected to life is gone and he's falling, falling, falling down... And it feels euphoric.

Alfred wonders why losing faith feels so good.

**. . .**

His eyes are closed, head bowed, fists clenched with the feeling of sentience creeping up his throat, his legs dangling precariously from the edge of the ten-story.

Matthew used to say, and he still hears: "Please love me." It arrives as a whisper from nowhere in particular, floating with the cool night breeze, and he remembers that night in the meadow.

"I love you," Alfred says to the wind. He opens his eyes at the sky and thinks, _Star light, star bright... _He can almost see Matthew, arms wide open like they always seemed to be, ready to accept him like before. "I'm on my way," he promises softly. He closes his eyes again.

_First star I see tonight..._

Then he pushes his body forward and off the roof.


End file.
